Briar kicked her feet up, boots crossed at the ankle as she slouched in the chair as poison hued eyes watched the scene before her. Another underground brawl, make them bloody or leave them dead seemed to be the motto down below as the buckskin smooth of brow arched at the next blow. The snap of bone, the spray of blood brought a small flicker of a smile, sharp as a thin knife to cut across her lips as she watched the fight. It hardly sated the tendencies or urges of the Trickster, or gave any soothe to the nature that had left her nicknamed as Killer.

Restless those boots moved in a tap to some wicked rhythm only she would know or wake to. The beat of heart, the rush of blood, the heightened emotion when fear was ignited ,these were the sounds that made a melody in her mind as she closed her eyes and allowed her senses to take over.

Ever since the end of the days before, the days prior to the kidnapping and torture there was nothing but a dark patch in her soul, empty pit of memories like the swallowing edge of darkness to devour. The past seemed like it should have been relevant but that indifference of Briar?s spirit seemed to all but consume. Strangely enough she had recognized the Sadist, had remembered the names of those she had claimed as ?brothers? so long ago. Now spending her nights rather then hunting instead to keep company with Sam and Mesteno. Enigma and a Sadist that she seemed to keep company with, yet there was an agreeable thing that all of them shared some sort of similarity. Perfectly synched with the Sadist he understood her ways and actions as easily as Dillon did, as easily as the Slaver.

Instinct and second nature were the rules to life anymore. As she watched on the awareness came that another was watching her from a table kept in the darker corner of the room. The Coyote could not help but smirk as there was a vague spark of familiarity and yet still unknown. A shake of head as she realized that Karma?s memories and imprint must still be within her mind and spirit as this one was not known to her.

There was that realization that perhaps word had got out that the Coyote was alive and back on the Hunt. Back for Hire and living up to her nickname as the ?Killer.? A thick swallow of vodka drained from her glass as she left a tip for the serving wench and disappeared out into the night.

Despite the watch of the Death Hunter, the Coyote?s thoughts went elsewhere? to linger on the words of a Sadist and the response of a Killer when discussion came upon the nature of an Enigma. There were secrets and stories and much that was left unsaid between the three of them? and the mystery was just something a Trickster adored getting messed up with and tangling in.

That sharp grin etched her lips as she smiled up at a grinning moon? glad if anything to be back to old habits. That old Dangerous Game of Blood and Death, Secrets and Stories.